Legend of the Sky Wolves

<< Back To << Hati

Legend of the Sky Wolves - Introduction & OOC Notes

'Legend of the Sky Wolves' is a series of cutscenes, writings, stories, dream sequences, etc. which are written as a form of character growth for the characters: Hati and Skoll Ulfang. This is mostly to help to build some backstory for the characters, as well as some outside influences on their stories. It is provided for those who are interested in getting some insight into them, or who may be interested in creative writing in general. Both the 'Golden Wolf' and the 'White Wolf' are also app-able characters (see below), but I encourage anyone interested in apping either character to read the entire sequence of posted works before contacting either player about them.

The story of the 'White Wolf'/'Golden Wolf' as written is loosely referenced off of the Norse tale of Skoll and Hati, two wolves who chased the sun and the moon, destined to eventually complete their quests during the Ragnarok. (For more information, see this link)

As an Appable Character

While, for the sake of writing, the 'White/Golden Wolves' work essentially as spirit guides and creatures of legend, they are also characters who could be taken on by someone interested in becoming an important party to the lives of either Skoll or Hati. They could be anyone: a new character or an existing one, of any race, from any world, or of any gender. The only key factor would be something that eventually reveals them as the 'Wolves' in some way. Both of us are looking for neutral->good characters preferably, who would work as positive influences on the characters.

The 'Wolves' will likely not even be aware of the destiny/tie that they have, although it is not unlikely that they might 'feel' something. They are, in many ways, the character's 'soul mate', but it doesn't have to be a romantic relationship. They could be destined as friends, partners, protectors, or lovers, depending on what each player has in mind or wants out of the relationship. These are likely to be relationships that grow over time, rather than being immediate, and contacting either player to 'try' for a slot as one of the 'Wolves' doesn't mean that your character has to change. In the end, we will decide who best fits the role. Please check with Skoll or Hati if you're interested, as each will have a better idea of what they are looking for. Due to the nature of these characters, we do reserve the right to re-cast them if someone trying for the role idles out.

Ideally, I believe we are both looking people who are very character-growth driven roleplayers, and patient enough to play out building up relationships over time. The person should be at least reasonably active, with no intentions of idling, leaving, etc. These are important, long-term character connections, where we would like someone creative enough to not just follow along with the story, but make it their own.

Chapter 1: Children's Stories

"I'm bored." The small black form of a young werewolf sits at the window, his breath fogging up the glass as he looks out into a whirling mass of white. While he certainly is still a child, Skoll is already big for a wolf, trained from a young age to follow in his father's pawprints. Today, though, his father is elsewhere. As the pack leader, it had always been Odin's job to keep them fed even in the worst times of winter, and so he had led the hunters out into the blizzard, intent on bringing back enough food to fill the bellies of his loyal wolves.

A moment later, a smaller wolf hops up beside the boy, nudging her head in to try to get a look around her brother's big head. "It's all white out there." She comments, then draws back, pawing the cold from her nose. "Of course it's white, it's a blizzard." Skoll quips back, ruffling the girl's fur as he hops down, stalking across the small room to sniff at the hearth. Hati stays behind, paws pressed against the window as she tries to see through the curtain of snow.

"Be kind to your sister." Gray lingers in the fur around their mother's muzzle, showing just how many years have passed since she had once been in her prime. Once, she had been Frigg, the Alpha female, and the most beautiful of the pack, but time had taken it's toll. Now, Odin had a young female he courted as his mate, and Frigg had her two pups. Odin still came to train Skoll, but... he never did accept Hati as his daughter.

"But she's being dumb." Skoll protests, peeking towards the pot, only to find himself being turned around by one of his mother's strong paws. "And you didn't marvel at the snow when you were her age?" The black wolf folds his arms, growling softly under his breath, "I didn't make such a big deal about it." He mutters, getting only a laugh from his mother in response.

"Why don't I tell you two a story to pass the time?" She muses, setting the top to the pot to let it simmer. It takes a tug of the tail to drag Hati's attention from the snow, but the smaller wolf with the two-toned fur blinks before settling down, looking up expectantly. "Is it about the snow?" She asks, tail wagging.

"Not about the snow, dearheart, but it's a story the both of you should hear." She walks over towards a bookcase, pulling down a dusty volume. Skoll groans, though, finally moving to sit next to his sister. "I hope this isn't one of those boring stories." While he's muttering, Hati chimes in, "I hope there's a horse in it." To which her brother responds, "I hope there's fighting." The girl sticks her tongue out at her brother, but she can't quite keep back a wiggle of excitement as their mother comes over, opening up the book to the first couple of pages.

"Long ago, when the land was still new and our race was still young, there lived two wolves, a brother and a sister named Skoll, and Hati." She starts, only to be interrupted by her daughter, "That's us!" The boy bats at her ear, "She said a /long time ago/, didn't you listen?" "Oh." Hati's ears slick back, seeming confused.

"It's alright, sweetheart. These are the wolves who you and your brother are named after." With this explination, Hati brightens a bit, ears lifting. "They were the strongest hunters of their pack, ranging far across the mountains after the most elusive of prey." She goes on, and this time it is her son who interrupts, "Yeah, definitely can't be about you, Hati." Which causes his sister to growl faintly, and shove at her brother's shoulder.

Clearing her throat, their mother flips a page as she goes on. "One day, while the two siblings were hunting, a great spirit from the sky came down to them in the form of an eagle." She flips the page towards them so that they can see the illustration of a great bird landing before two wolves. The sketches seem hand-drawn, like something that might have been written not as long ago as their mother had claimed. "He said onto them: 'You are the greatest hunters of my land, but there is one prey that you have not been able to catch.' Then, with a single talon, he pointed towards two other wolves upon the hillside."

As she turns the page, it reveals two forms - one colored in shades of gold and brown, the other as pure white as snow. "He bade the two wolves to give chase, and told them that if they ever were to catch their prey, they would find something far greater than just the hunt." While Hati had leaned forward to get a better view of the two wolves, Skoll had done is best to seem disinterested, glancing out of the corner of his eye. "So, Skoll said to his sister: 'I will chase the Golden Wolf.' And she said in reply: 'So then I will chase the White Wolf.' And as their prey set off, each one gave chase. Yet no matter how far they ran, neither could ever catch them. So for all time, each dawn, Skoll begins his chase of the Golden Wolf across the sky, and each night Hati nips at the heels of the White Wolf."

There is moment of quiet as she finishes the story, closing the book in her lap. "Mom?" Hati pipes up, head tilting, "Are they real?" Just as her mother is about to answer, though, Skoll pushes himself up, looking frustrated. "Of course not. It's just a silly story. The Golden Wolf is the sun, and the White Wolf is the moon. It's just some legend to explain why we've got night and day." Frigg chuckles to herself, shaking her head at her son before drawing Hati into a hug.

"It's more than just a story, Skoll. Every story has a ring of truth to it, and there's a reason why I named you two after the wolves in this one." Hati climbs up into her mother's lap, taking the book and opening it again to the page with the two wolves on the hillside. "Your father believes in it. Enough so that he betrothed you to that girl in the Valley pack." Skoll's ears tuck back, looking at his mother, "But mom... I don't even /like/ her." He protests, "It doesn't matter if you like her or not, dear heart. If she's your Golden Wolf, then it'll work out."

Skoll growls again, irritated and tired of being trapped indoors - and more-so by this story and what it might mean for his future. "What about Hati, then? I mean, dad hasn't gone mated her off to someone." It just seems so... unfair. But then the girl looks up, seeming completely serious and all-together unchildlike as she whispers, "Maybe... I have to find them on my own."

Frigg just smiles at this, ruffling her daughter's head as she plucks her up, setting the girl down on her feet. Hati continues to hold onto the book, but Skoll stalks back to the window, muttering again, "It's just a stupid story." Yet, even as quiet settled again over the small house, the story had been enough. Enough to spark a dream in the heart of a girl, and enough to drive a boy to want to be something more than just a silly wolf who runs forever - getting nowhere.

Chapter 2: The Hunted

The woods are still, the snow laying cold over grass and branch. In these coldest of months, there are few sounds of life among the trees, except for the cry of an owl on the hunt, or the lonely sound of a wolf's howl. Her breath hangs in the air, drawn into mist each time she takes breath into her powerful lungs and lets it out again. There is something about the thrill of it - to run through the trees, letting the speed carry wind through her fur and the feeling of hard-packed earth beneath her paws.

Here, in the quiet of the mid-winter woods, she is free. There are no memories to tickle at the back of her mind, trying to find purchase in a place that has long forgotten them. There is no words from strange people to taunt her mind, pulling at her understanding. All there is in this world is one wolf, her paws, the air in her lungs, and the night laying open and free.

But... something is wrong here.

Her feet come to a skidding stop, circling in a small clearing go get her bearings and catch her breath. That is when she hears it. In the distance, there is the howl of another wolf. Her nose twitches, ears slicking back as the sound draws closer. There should be no others, not in this place. 'Not alone.' The words nag at her like an itch that she can't quite scratch.

Then, she sees it. A flash of white fur through the trees. There! Her feet fly over the frozen ground, giving chase to that which has always eluded her. A brush of a tail, a silouette of a lupine body. Always there - just out of reach. Not tonight! Tonight, Hati races without heed of the danger, letting trees graze her shoulders. Yet, even as she draws closer to that unfathomable thing, there is something else, too.

Something is chasing at her heels. Voices call from memories long forgotten, tugging at her ears, pulling her heartstrings. Every time she gets closer, they pull her back like tendrils of some thing that she can no longer escape. Vines and twigs and underbrush catch at her paws, slow her down, try to trip her or make her fall.

But she is more clever than them. She knows that there is an open clearing in the distance, and there will be no voices or memories to hold her down. Nothing but clear open space and the White Wolf as her prey. Just a little further!

Then, just as she launches free from the trees, her feet skid upon the ground, her breath short and her eyes wide as she comes face to face with something that is clearly not the White Wolf. There, upon the snow, a body lays upon snow that is tinted crimson. The smell of blood is heavy in the air, and in that moment, all thought of her persuit is gone.

As she draws closer to that fallen form, something about this place just starts to feel all too familiar. Fear makes her heckles rise. Even before her nose reaches out to nudge that fallen form, there is a part of her that knows the wolf is dead. Yet, this is not /her/ wolf, not the one she had chased, and yet it is ... familiar. Her muzzle touches cold flesh, and as the head lulls towards her, Hati ends up face to face not with some stranger's corpse, but with her own lifeless eyes.

No! It's not possible. She jumps back, looking frantically around the clearing. That is when she sees him. The black wolf looms from the shadows, blood dripping from his toothy maw. Even as she scrambles, it's already too late. There is no escape. The last thing she sees is a flash of white up on the hill - the White Wolf watching her die, and then his fangs find her.

## *** ##

Hati wakes with a start, sitting up with a cold sweat clinging to her face and causing her hair to stick against her neck. Wind rushes in from a window that must have been knocked open by the storm raging outside. Shivering, she rolls out of bed, bare feet feeling leaden on the chill floor. The fire had gone out, possibly blown out by the same wind that had broken the catch on the window.

She reaches a hand to prop the window closed, looking out into a familiar sea of white that has only just begun to blanket the forest. Yet, this is not the same forest. This is not the place of her nightmares, but it is the only trees she knows, now. Her eyes sweep to the sleeping form of the doberman she'd only just begun training - clearly unphased by the cold, or by the dreams that had interrupted her sleep.

Pulling her blanket from her bed, Hati walks over to her workbench, covered in Lord Serrak's journals. Yet, it is not her Master's words that she had pined over the previous day. Instead, all that lingers for her night of work, is a sketch of a wolf with feathers hanging from his fur. It is the image that had infected her mind, and even now it seemed to bring with it those memories she'd tried so hard to forget.

With a growl, Hati seizes the paper and crumples it in her hand, walking over to the fireplace. There, she tosses down two new logs, then grabs a match, setting it to the edge of the paper. It doesn't take long for the dry tinder to catch, and she tosses the paper onto the logs. There... it only takes a moment for the image to uncurl, visible briefly against the flickering light, only to be consumed by the flames.

Chapter 3: When the Sun Cries

It begins in darkness.

Quiet and still, the world seems to sleep, drawing in steady breaths. But all is not peaceful. A smell hangs in the air - the metallic tinge of blood that carries on the wind. It's rank enough to make a stomach turn.

Then, there is a scream.

The world appears before Skoll's eyes, as if he were waking from a dream. This is no dream, though. It is a nightmare. He stands in the middle of an open field of battle, with bodies strewn at his feet, stretching out as far as the eye can see. There is no memory of how he got here, but some of the corpses closest to him bear the marks of his own weapon upon them. There is blood on his hands, on his tongue.

For a time, that is all there is. These nameless faces that have been mown down by his hands. A sea of death and destruction in an unfamiliar world.

Then, a voice calls. It is the familiar voice of one of the Gaudium Lords - his masters. Where they had not been a minute before, now a pair of them stand, looking impassive - as if they were not in a field of bodies. They becon him over, and should he approach them, he would soon find that the scene around him shifts.

The battlefield is gone - he now stands in a grand hall, with black marbled floors distinctly fearsome looking architecture. The two sit on thrones, the others left empty for the other Lords who have not attended the event. The switch from one to another - as much as it might startle someone - shifts seemlessly. There is the understanding that he had come in from the battle - come to report what had happened.

A nightmare indeed. He'd fallen asleep in the Shard Seekers HQ - having just entered and left Manhattan in a search for Zia. Things were bad there, very bad. He'd not seen her at the time, and he'd not thought of calling her in that short search. Instead, he'd spent his time fending off heartless and making lives a bit easier on the people. He knew what was going to follow... but he was expressly forbidden from speaking those words to anybody. A mental block if you may...

Yet this nightmare. As he finds himself within that field of battle, dread settles deep within his chest and belly. Blood on his tongue, blood on his hands, blood on his chains. He moves a hand to wipe off his face, only to find it further red. His golden eyes tremble, looking around. This had been his deed, in this world... ordered by the Gaudium lords. Doing what they commanded him to do as always... only this time, it'd ended up bloody.

So many. He'd gone all-out.

He never went all out.

Then, the voice. His masters call for him. He shifts his head and moves indeed, following them into the Gaudium Castle. There they are, Pist and Helba - the starfish like creep and the woman with full control of flowers. He stands there, before them...

"Their resistance has been quelled, my Lords." He says, kneeling before them and laying a hand to his chest. A mental pressure against his mind. He doesn't want to kneel before them. He didn't want to kill those people! But here he is, kneeling like always... doing their bidding. The bidding of these people who saved his life. But was this worth it?

There is a rumbling laugh, but it is hard to tell if it comes from one of these two Lords before him, or from something far darker who lurks over even them. Someone is pleased. Such a useful toy to have at their disposal. "Not quite." One of them murmurs, moving a hand towards the side of the chamber.

From their, armored guards appear, leading a line of survivors. One by one, they are lead out before the two Lords, and every face that appears here is familiar. These are friends, allies, comrades, family. There is Hati as he would have remembered her, with green eyes and dark hair left to grow long and wild - young, just as she was the day she disappeared. His mother is there, her head bowed.

Then, others join them. Avira, with her hands bound before her. Reize, with even his ahoge tied down. Zia, with her wings bound. One by one, everyone who matters to him is brought there before him and forced to their knees. Some fight, some struggle, some - like his mother - go quietly. None are allowed to meet his eyes, as the guards walk between the lines of prisoners.

"These last few trouble makers need to be taken care of." All of them are injured, cut, bleeding, bruised. How many of these wounds were made by his own hands? Yet now, all of them are helpless before him, every tie that connects him to the world, to the light. "But we have a special gift for you. You only have to kill half of them. The others we'll send to the work camps." It's hard to tell which would be the worser of the two options.

"Choose." And yet, this is a mockery of a choice. "Cut the bonds of those you wish to live, and slit the throats of those who must die." It's a sick sort of challenge, but even in the dream, their power compells.

'Not Quite'? Those dangerous words hang in Skoll's head and repeat a few times, as if chanted by some kind of acapella group... weighing heavily on his shoulders. Dread. Such great dread hangs in his chest, letting him know what was coming before the dream brought it to him. Like a deja-vu feeling, the 'survivors' walk out in front of him. He recognizes them. Each and everyone one. Immediate defeat enters his heart.

Hati, his sister, who is alive. His mother, whom he knows to be dead, yet... here she is alive. Hope being the thread that ties memories and the heart, he immediately accepts this reality as her being alive. But then, more. There's Avira with her hands bound -- a girl afraid of being alone and restrained. Reize, the captain of the Shard Seekers. Zia - her wings bound; he can only recall her words in that moment, the tale of the priest who had those wings staked over his altar to ward off demons. And there are more...

"Trouble makers?" Skoll asks, wincing. They're hurt. Some of them carry the burnt imprint of chains upon them. He'd connected with these people... and endangered them. Now, they are here, /because of him/. Immense guilt too creeps into his heart, stabbing deep. "They're... not trouble makers. They don't resist you..." He whispers for nobody to hear.

And then, to make matters worse, the gift. The gift of not having to kill them. To Choose this fake choice. Yet their power indeed compells. Orcha is probably somewhere in that room, laughing. Why can't he resist! He's not aware that his mind is controlled normally, but in this moment, as he sees himself take a step forwards to these people... he knows.

He knows what has been done to him, that he can't trust himself anymore... because of them. His hands shake, he tries to scream at himself to stop. But he reaches out, his fingers finding his mother's neck first... he tries to resist, he tries to stop himself. Skoll's body trembles, he screams out in agony and tears...

"Don't look at me..." He whispers. But he can't resist in that moment. Too weak... he can't do this on his own.

Even as he begs them not to turn their eyes towards him, the dream does the opposite. Every head lifts, every set of familiar eyes turns towards him, but in that moment he can already see what they would look like if they were dead. The haunted, hollow that he's seen before in the eyes of those who stood in the way of his Lords. In that moment, the knowledge would be all too real - this is just another game. This is no choice, because all who stand in their way will die.

The scene shifts abruptly, enough to knock the wind out of him. Yet, even as his eyes adjust, taking in new surroundings, he'd see blood strewn across the snow. He's at the edge of a forest now - a familiar one from near his home as a child. It looks out onto a ridge, where the sun is just starting to rise. The first hints of light cast him into shadow, stretching his form out like some monster over the bloody places on the ground where those prisoners had been a moment before. He might not remember, but there is that lingering feeling of dread.

Then, there is a second shadow beside him. It is stretched longer than his, but the form is unmistakeable. There, against the rising sun, a wolf with golden fur stands. After so long of flickering in his dreams - always at the periphery, there it is. All it would take is stepping forward and he might just be able to reach it. To reach... her.

A wind blows through the Golden Wolf's fur, blowing with it the feathers that dangle from her ears. It seems so real - like something he might be able to just reach out and touch. Yet, the moment he makes any move forward, something pulls him back. Great chains - not the sort that he wields in battle, but something only visible here, in this place - show on his wrists. They connect back to a waiting darkness. They hold him from reaching her.

Yet the wolf sits there on her haunches, watching him, waiting.

When they turn their eyes towards him in those hollow ways, Skoll literally feels nauscious, yet his fingers squeeze down on that neck... and just before he might finish the act on his first victim - while perfectly under the realization of what this is - there is that stumble. He stumbles back, closing his eyes for a moment, then opening them again in the snow. He's on his world, and somehow it is in the 'now'. He doesn't even think of the fact that this world is no more.

He looks over the ridge for a moment, before noting the shadow of his own... and the blood. It's like his shadow is the blood - like he is the monster that only brings just that to the world. Even his 'honorcode' could not stand up against this monster he carries with him. He can't stop the monster... it has him in its fiercest grip and strangles his will... snuffing it out like fingers would a candle-wick.

Then, the second shadow. His heart skips, and hope enters his heart. A beautiful golden wolf! He draws a deep breath, blinking a few times. It is real. Golden. Beautiful. Waiting for him. He reaches out towards her, and just when he's about to touc her... the rattling of chains. Metal against metal as the links hold strong, stopping him from touching the Golden wolf.

"No!" He shouts, pulling hard on the chains. His feet dig into the ground. "You can't take this from me too!" He calls out, pulling hard... but no matter how hard he pulls, his feet can't find the footing. Inevitably, he is pulled back, drawn back into the darkness no matter his struggle. He snarls, he cries out. "Please! Not this too!"

And then... when he realizes that no matter how much he struggles, he can't reach it; he just howls. He howls the saddest howl he can manage...

For a time, the wolf just sits there, her fur achingly close to his fingertips, but the wind seems to blow so even at his furthest reach, it just escapes them. She sits there as he is drawn back, not quite pulled into the darkness, but away from her. They don't want him to reach her, to find her. Whomever she is, out there in the myriad of worlds, those who hold his chains are afraid that her pull might be stronger than theirs.

Yet, that howl does reach her ears, and her head tips back, joining her song to his. It has that same, deep sadness - a kindred spirit calling out the same sorrow. Then, as her voice dies away, he might just feel the passing of her fur across his face. It seems like a ghost - something not quite real. Even here, she isn't able to reach him. Yet, there is that pressure of something warm against his chest - the shift of hair beneath his neck. When he opens his eyes, though, the Golden Wolf has not moved.

Her head tilts, watching him with those sad eyes. There is a whimper in her throat, beconing him, calling to him. Yet, the sun is rising. Slowly, she gets to her feet, looking at the light that comes over the ridge. It frames her for a moment in a halo of gold and white, and then it becomes too bright to see.

She's gone. She has become the sun again. She had been there, just close enough to touch, and he had not been able to break free. So, it is a sad feeling for him to wake with. The sun shining across his eyes just as the light in the dream had blinded him in that moment. Yet here, there is no glint of fur, and no howl to join with his. In this waking world, she is still out there, waiting for him to be strong enough to find her.

Chapter 4: Until Dawn

At first, there is only darkness. It seems quiet and peaceful here, somewhere beyond the point where others can reach. Then the pain returns. It comes all at once, forcing a ragged gasp as she forces air down into lungs that burn like white-hot fire. The taste of blood is strong in her mouth, like rusted metal. The ground beneath her is cold, and it seems to have seeped into every part of her body. Every movement is like agony, but there is no stopping the shivers that weaken her evens till.

Her eyes open - no, one eye opens. The other is nothing - only darkness where it once had sight. Night has fallen, bringing with it the bitter chill of early Winter. There is red staining the snow before her paws, and when she tries to find her voice, all she can manage is a whimper. Her legs shift, but even as she tries to rise up onto trembling limbs, her strength fails again. Soon a different sort of predator will come for her life. Maybe the cold, or the blood still seeping onto the snow, or perhaps the other dangerous things that lurk in the night - there's nothing she can do.

Her head turns skyward, looking for some shard of silver in the night - some hint of the moon. Tears sting that remaining eye as she pleads to the spirits. "Please." The word sounds like a whisper, but soon enough her strength fades again, leaving her head to settle onto the cold snow. In this darkest of places, can there really still be light? Something stirrs nearby, but there is no point to trying to run. If it be beast or bearer of death, then let them come. At least it would be an end to the pain.

That is when she first feels the brush of fur along her side. Her eye flutters open to a vissage of white fur, and a muzzle that nudges her head up over a broad neck. It's the warmth that begins to sooth the worst of of the shivering, taking the edge away from the pain. The scent of the wolf beside her is unfamiliar, but something about it feels like home. It's safe here, with her head resting against the wolf's neck, and in some part of her still waking mind, she has to wonder: Is this what dying is like? Does the White Wolf only come to you in those final hours, to help ease your passage into the next life?

It seems like a dream. Something impossible and intangible, but there is a part of it that feels /real/ too. Even with the pain, there is some part of her that wants to cling to this moment, this life, even as it ebbs away. If these are the only times she has with her White Wolf, then she wants to be here for as long as she can hold on. "Stay." She whispers, that same pleading voice that had called to the moon.

Alas, it is not to be. There is a crack somewhere off in the distance, and it raises Hati's ears, her one eye opening to look. The wolf is gone. Is it a mistake - a trick of her imagination that the warmth still lingers a bit in that spot where the wolf had laid beside her. There is snow there, where there shouldn't have been if the wolf were real. "Wait." She calls, trying to pull back that feeling of warmth and safety that had been there in that brief moment.

The sun is rising in the East. A form moves in the darkness of the woods, but it is not the White Wolf. "Wait." She pleads again, and then the world comes back around again, harsh and bright, and full of pain of being alive.